Death to Pain
by Her.Vanilla.Majesty
Summary: —Lonely moons, bad dreams, stolen DVDs, and trucks running over boys who destroyed your home. What happens when Percy and Reyna get to talking in the middle of the night?—drabbles
1. Chapter 1

_Death to Pain_

**_R E Y N A_**

There was something about the boy with the sea-green eyes and windblown hair.

She had never—not even in her wildest dreams—thought that he, of all people, would stumble back into her life like a ghost of the past she had barely escaped from.

And now she saw him, as clearly as the first shaft of morning light breaking through dusk, and she felt like crying because he was so horrible and good to her and it hurt it hurt it _hurt._

**(and sometimes, she doesn't mind)**

**_'''_**

She had grown to hate a faceless enemy. It was easier for her that way.

Somewhere along the flotsam and jetsam of fighting, scars, and leading an entire camp tirelessly through toil and war, his image had become disjointed and warped. Shaped and hardened, molded to fuel her rage and ignite her bloodlust.

She'd go to bed and slip under the covers, night lulling her into a wild landscape of broken palm trees and the smell of ocean and a starless sky draping the hazy shadows of a young girl with the point of her dagger buried in the chest of this awful—_awful, terrible, heartless—_man that had shredded her last remaining sanctuary to pieces and forced her sister to part ways with her.

He'd stare at her with black—black and cold like the deepest pits of Hell—eyes that were filled with nightmarish screams and merciless fires, and before she could spit on his face—ugly and scarred—unruly, callused pirate hands would haul her away and send her crashing back to reality.

**(and the scars grow deeper.)**

_**'''**_

She remembered him now.

The young man with the tattered clothes and bruised body who had washed up onto camp carrying the Queen of Olympus in his arms.

The faceless enemy did not have empty black eyes.

He had green ones.

Green like the willowy stems of grass that probably grew in the gardens of Heaven. Green like the leaves of spring. Green like…like life.

Beautiful, unpredictable, dangerous, and precious life.

Green.

Her dagger felt searing hot through the fabric of her clothes, and her heart dropped to her stomach, as heavy as lead.

Percy Jackson was his name.

**(it mattered, somehow.)**

_**'''**_

He couldn't - still doesn't - remember anything and it frustrated her.

She wanted him to kneel and beg for forgiveness—forgiveness that she would not grant. Wanted him wracked with guilt and plagued with remorse.

She wanted him in her hands, half-broken and hollow. Like a wind-up toy that, if spun around a few times, would walk aimlessly to the tip of her sword and offer his life in return for burning down hers.

But all she had gotten was a confused stare and innocence.

Unbridled and pure innocence that tore her heart apart because she was so suddenly drained of emotion—and it scared her because through all the pain she had been through, the raw emotion in them was the only real thing she could properly derive from her clouded memories.

And now the hate was useless because he would not waver under her subtle accusations, nor laugh at the pain in her eyes.

He was far from wanting her forgiveness. It suited her fine because she was far from giving it.

**(his apology is whispered in deaf ears.)**

**_'''_**

She doesn't know what led her to do it.

Maybe she went insane. Maybe she was just stupid.

But there was something about him that accounted for it. An aura that hovered about him, fierce and refreshingly cool and warm like lazy strokes of sunset, that pleaded with her heart to give him a second chance. It was a power that could only belong to a leader.

So she offered him the position of praetor on a silver platter.

Perhaps she was too subtle with it because all he had done was stare blankly for a few moments before the realization hit him. She had wanted to look away but his gaze was strangely magnetic.

As soon as her eyes locked, something cold stirred within her chest and her stomach felt hollow. The anger left her numb and not sated in the least. Her fingers twitched, begging for hold of her dagger.

He was so close to her…one slip of a hand and a ribbon of blood would do little to stain her name - especially if it was blood belonging to a _graecus._

Hungry. She was _hungry._

Hungry for what?

_"Oh," _Percy said, his eyes darkening. "You mean…oh."

"I believe the gods sent you to help me." Her voice quivered as she reined in her hatred with sudden ease. Words tumbled off her tongue like slabs of marble—cold and unfeeling.

His stare bore into hers like emeralds piercing cemented darkness and she nearly lost her mind.

"You would find me a very helpful…friend."

Percy tensed at the word, and so did she.

When he spoke, his voice was liquid honey. "Reyna…" he faltered for the briefest moment, drawing his eyes away and turning distant.

_Don't say my name,_ her soul begged and ached. _Don't say it like that…_

The smell of ocean rippled through the air and tugged at her gut.

"I'm honored, and all. Seriously. But I've got a girlfriend. And I don't want power, or a praetorship."

Reyna blinked. Her blood turned chilly and her muscles turned taut.

"A man who turns down power?" she asked, raising a brow at him. "That's not very Roman of you. Just think about it. In four days, I have to make a choice. If we are to fight off an invasion, we _must_ have two strong praetors. I'd prefer you, but if you fail on your quest, or don't come back, or refuse my offer… Well, I'll work with Octavian. I mean to save this camp, Percy Jackson. Things are worse than you realize."

His jaw locked and he pursed his lips, looking thoughtful and dark. "How bad?"

A beat of silence.

She felt like throwing something. Ripping something beautiful apart. Punching a hole against the wall.

She had told him of her last resort—working with Octavian—and he wasn't swayed. Not in the least.

She hoped Percy Jackson would die very painfully on his quest.

**(because she can't kill him anymore.)**

_**'''**_

She misses hating him.

Almost as much as she misses Jason and her sister Hylla, but that was besides the point.

Wait.

Wait, no, it wasn't.

Because he had brought her back. Percy Jackson: monster of the past and destroyer of her dreams had brought back her sister—the one person in the world that she had loved with all her heart.

_'But is that enough?'_ her heart demanded stonily. '_Is it?'_

I don't know…

The fighting had displaced her thoughts as her mind whirred back to instinct and her muscles coiled as another enemy foolishly charged head-on for her. Percy Jackson rode away, looking like a hardened war-hero with the eagle held high in his hands and a sparkling grin on his face.

She broke the enemy's lance and sunk her dagger through his chest, wishing for all the world that it had been Percy Jackson that had fallen to his knees before her and not this monster—his death would not suffice the empty feeling in her stomach—while praying to the gods above that he would not fall to another in battle. Not after all he had done for her and the camp.

And that was when she had realized that she no longer hated him. Or maybe it was after that.

Yes. Yes, it was after that.

After that, when she saw him in his praetor clothing—though, she had to admit, he seemed a bit embarrassed about it—looking every bit like Jason Grace while, at the same time, looking nothing like him at all.

They both had that sadness that lurked within them and the certain tightness to their words—as if they had strained their hearts each time they tried to talk. As if they had seen the future—their future—fall apart like delicate shards of glass as reality hit it with full force, demanding all they had for the greater good of the world.

But they were different. Oh-so-different.

Jason's hair was golden and it reminded her of the sunshine on Circe's Island—the same one she had fallen in love with before it was taken away by a torrent of darkness—shaded just like Percy's own ever-windblown, jet-black locks. The same darkness that had toughened her and hardened her and led her to Camp Jupiter—her new home.

And Jason's eyes were blue—like the ocean waves that washed up on the white shores of the spa and cooled her feet whenever she stood by. They were blue like…like the waters the pirate ships sailed on as she was locked underneath, away from sunshine with only darkness and misery as company—cold and unflinching darkness.

And Percy's eyes were green—like land and life. The promise of a new life stretched across the sun-drenched horizon as the ocean stayed behind, distant and calling for her return.

It was funny how she associated color with life.

It was funny how she used to think Percy Jackson and hate came hand-to-hand in her heart.

It was funny…and also a little sad to find that he made her happy now.

**(now that he was about to leave.)**

**…**

_So, yes, there was something about the boy with the sea-green eyes and windblown hair._

_It was just too bad he wouldn't stick around long enough for her to find out what._

**(and maybe think about what happens after.)**

* * *

><p>Click that review button and tell me your thoughts!<p>

-HVM


	2. Chapter 2

_Death to Pain_

**_R E Y N A_**

She dreams about him.

On nights that were too cold to not fill her with nightmares that keep her tossing about in wrinkled sheets and tear-stained pillows, she dreams about him.

_'''_

_He will regret returning. He will regret asking for your forgiveness._

_You will regret ever giving it._

_Little girl, you've lost your home. Where to run to now?_

_'''_

Her mind dives into the abyss of the past before she can stop it, and she finds herself tumbling in after, headfirst, as metal chains coil around her arms and drag her down with a heavy anchor sliding across steel and cement, trying to find a hold to reality.

_'''_

There's a barren slope of rolling hills stretching across the horizon like restless waves frozen in time, held in beaming hues of emerald and blue.

The sunshine filters through the murk, puffing onto her face like billows of lingering spring.

Percy Jackson stands by her side and he won't speak to her.

It suits her fine because she doesn't want to speak to him either.

_'''_

_You better shut up._

_You better keep silent._

_Else he'll twist your words and stab your back with them._

_'''_

A ship is tossed against a dusty precipice and dirt spews from its jagged edges, wood splintering apart and burying into dry soil.

She watches, stunned.

Percy Jackson blinks and he flicks his hand forward.

The mast of the ship straightens and ropes arc around each other in messy tangles, taut and frayed.

"What are you doing?" she asks him.

"Helping you," he says.

"Helping me to what?"

His answer is simple and blunt. "Forgive and forget."

_'''_

_It's easy for people who haven't lost their family._

_It's easy for little girls who haven't had dreams crushed before their eyes._

_It's easy to see that the glass is really just half-empty when it's filled with blood and tears._

_'''_

He leads her across miles and miles of nothingness and she follows in his steps, afraid to take his hand.

"Do you remember what this is?" he asks her.

"No," she says. "Am I supposed to?"

"It's your island. Circe's Island."

She looks around, at the specks of hot sand brushing low over cracked patches of soil, and doesn't believe him.

"It's all that's left of it," he clarifies. "In your memory."

"This isn't what it looks like."

He shakes his head. "It's what it always looks like."

_'''_

_Homecomings are always so touching aren't they?_

_Especially when you're all alone and there's no one to keep you company._

_This is how a lone wolf lives._

_Howl at the moon at midnight, and pray someone will answer the call._

_'''_

"Do you know who that is?"

It's a small, frail girl hunched forward on her knees, standing behind a blustery mist made of dreams and memories, woven together to break her heart apart. The hems of her dress fold and bunch together under grimy ankles as her hands bury into the ground, surfacing briefly before sinking in again with a throaty cry that burns her lungs.

"It's you."

She blinks and stutters and almost cries. Almost. "No, it can't be."

"It's you," he repeats firmly.

"But…"

The little girl stands and wipes her tears with grimy hands. The smell of shipwreck and broken palm trees splash over them in haunting waves that slap across the scarred remains of her unbeating heart.

"I'll find him…" she whispers brokenly.

Night seeps in, drowning away the light, and a chill snakes down her arms. Stars scatter onto black velvet overhead, like diamonds floating in a thick pool of ink.

"I'll find him…and I'll kill him," the little girl says, louder this time. "It's his fault. All of it."

"That isn't me," she turns to him, pleading.

He only nods.

"I'll kill him."

"That was the past. I was young and…"

"He'll pay. For all of this."

He stares at her, face blank and assured.

She whimpers. "It was the past."

His arm brushes hers and he takes her shoulder gently. "For you, it never was."

_'''_

_I will not forget._

_I will not forgive._

_How long has that been your motto, little girl?_

_'''_

"Do you know why you hate me?" His question is short and simple, bit it still makes her head spin and her heart stop.

"You destroyed my home."

He shakes his head and his green eyes darken, looking back up at the starless sky. "Do you know why you still hate me?"

"Because I haven't forgotten that yet."

He stares at her, silent and unobtrusive as she draws herself together into a ball and falls to the ground gracelessly.

"Would you like to?" he asks. "Would you like to forget?"

_ ''' _

She wakes before the answer can slip from her lips.

"Yes, I would."

* * *

><p>Well this is certainly a lot more confusing, isn't it? I wanted to portray Reyna's confusion and uncertainty - and getting into a person's head is far from easy. It's a new writing style I'm experimenting with, so I'd appreciate if you tell me what you thought about it.<p>

Think of this as a separate piece of work from the last chapter.

With all the feedback you guys have been giving me, this was inevitable. :)

...

Click that review button and tell me your thoughts!

-HVM


	3. Chapter 3

Death to Pain

**_R E Y N A_**

The liquid splashes against the flute's rim in a foam of melted gold and citric snow, falling past her lips to graze her throat, leaving behind a wake of bubbling ripples that dance on her tongue like lingering sprites.

He sits across from her, eyeing the drink in apprehension and fidgeting underneath her gaze. His lashes are enviously long and dark, bordering his eyes like a fence of curved ink strokes centered round a pool of sea-green. He stares at her through them.

(Emeralds piercing darkness, she thinks again.)

They are waiting for the arrival of the _graecus._

She pours herself another glass, the drink making her head spin and heat rise against her cheeks. She presses a hand against her thigh, knuckles sliding past the familiar feel of her dagger.

Percy Jackson clears his throat. "I think you've had enough."

(She thinks she's already had more than enough by the fourth round and wonders why he's telling her this now.)

She ignores him, fire welling inside her chest, making the trepidation there swell.

The room is quiet and cold. It feels too small, now that she has company. The breeze that swings low from the open doors disquiets her because her praetor robe suddenly feels too lacking—in both warmth and coverage.

(Her shoulders are showing and she wonders why she's more flushed than he is.)

She downs a sip - or two, or three - and sighs in contentment.

"Reyna," he says, and she hears the firmness in his voice—laced with concern. "You should stop."

"Why aren't you drinking?" she asks him. "Worried I've poisoned it?"

"Have you?"

"Not yet," she promises him gravely.

He smiles and she blinks.

(Why is he smiling? Hadn't that sounded like a threat at all? It was supposed to. She's suitably worried that one of them has lost their mind—and it isn't him, for sure.)

"Okay then."

He takes a hesitant sip.

Spangled green eyes lift to hers as the drink seeps in through parted lips and she feels the room's temperature heighten up, just a notch.

It's enough to make her legs shift and her eyes dart from one speck on the floor to another.

(Isn't it winter already? Hadn't it just been too cold moments ago?)

"Pretty good mix," he says, licking his lips and looking at her in an almost amused manner.

"I honesty don't know what it is," she finds herself admitting. "One of the legacies gave it to me. Probably from Bacchus' side of the family."

"Bacchus?" Percy echoes curiously, a glint caught within the ring of his irises - as if remembering something particularly bothersome. "Dionysus. In Greek, right?"

"Is there no end to your translations?" She raises a brow in question, though the words roll of her tongue sharper than intended.

"It's fun," he decides, smiling amiably.

(Stop smiling. The enemy is coming. There will be blood on your blade and guilt in your heart if you do not focus.)

The wine—champagne, is it? Or, Bellona forbid, beer?—drops to her stomach, fizzing with warmth and vigor that makes her feel jittery and unsafe.

Her mind is dull and aching, and she struggles to keep her words clear. "What will you do?"

He looks at her, head tilting to the side. "Pardon?"

"What will you do when they arrive?

(There is a girl. The one he's mentioned before.)

"I…" he frowns. "I'm not sure."

She forgets he's a walking contradiction of Roman and Greek—love and hate.

"Well, you better get your priorities straight soon. An alliance cannot be made under an unclear decision. Chaos will erupt."

(Annabeth. Fire, tears, ocean, pain, sadness… they are things of the past - yet she cannot clearly separate them from the feelings she holds now. She already hates her; there's no need for second introductions.)

"What will _you_ do?" he asks her, and his lips purse into a stiff-looking line. The light of the room splays on his cheeks like curls of gold, and they mirror in his eyes, moving in a slow rhapsody of green and honey.

"I will meet with Jason."

He nods, approving. "That's good."

(She's going to see Jason again—sunshine and lightning—and she wonders why being with _him_—green grass and new life and ocean tides—makes her forget how happy she should be now.)

Bellona is good to her, she repeats in her head once her mind clears. 'Good' in ways she cannot understand.

She has instilled within her children pride and courage—resilience of the mind and soul.

He's bruising her now, sharp talons scraping at her chest, searching for the roots of her pulse. Soon, all that will be left of her is an empty cadaver's body, with a missing blank where her heart should be.

(She wonders if it's in his hands now. She wonders if he'll take good care of it.)

"Will you…will you return to your camp?"

"After all this, I'm not sure of that either." He laughs hollowly, the timbre of his voice soft and worn.

"I understand." She nods.

And she does—because she isn't sure if she's ready now—if she ever will be—to let him walk out and leave.

(Not when her heart is still beating within the confines of his sword-callused hands, not when the boy who once had it is on the brink of returning, not when she's finally—_finally, finally, finally—_found the courage to forgive.)

"A last round," she fills their glasses, a smile touching her lips. "A final round."

"A farewell round?" he asks her, taking his flute as his voice dips low in question.

Her smile deepens when their eyes lock.

"Not yet, Percy Jackson. Not yet."

* * *

><p><strong>Brr... :P<strong>

I've turned the heater on for the sake of not freezing off my poor, abused fingers. I don't think I can write much more than this...but I sure as heck will try.

How did you guys like this piece? If you've read Son of Neptune, assume this chapter prolongs the arrival of Jason and the campers.

I got a review telling me that the last chapter was confusing, and I have to admit it most certainly is. I like to think Reyna's mind isn't as stable as she makes it out to be.

**...**

The holidays are almost here! :)

**Click that review button and tell me your thoughts!**

**-HVM**


	4. Chapter 4

_Death to Pain_

_**R E Y N A**_

The point of training was to hone battle-reflexes and invigorate demigod instincts to defend and attack in the cleanest, most efficient way possible. It was to calm the mind, to think clearly, even in the face of seemingly inescapable danger. It was to unearth the hidden link between warrior and weapon and instruct every bone and muscle in the body to correspond to it within the blink of an eye.

The point of training with Percy Jackson, however, was to remind herself to _not _be distracted by the enemy.

Something which she was failing at. Horribly.

Because, really, couldn't he just stop trying to look her in the eyes for one second? What was the point of doing that, anyway? And his need to invade her personal space to deliver more close-range attacks was getting to be more than annoying. In fact, it was just downright infuriating.

The campers watched, suspended in awe and eyes unblinking, as steel clashed against steel in repetitive rhythm, silver glints sparking against the burning hot rays of the dawning sunset slowly creeping over Little Tiber.

"I've got twenty on Jackson."

Whispers bloomed all around, heralded by the sound of jingling coins.

_"Thirty _on Reyna. She looks like she wants to skewer him."

**...**

Skewering Percy Jackson was far from the last thing on Reyna's mind—nor was it the first.

His sword swept down in a gracious arc, nearly grinding through the spaulder set on her armed shoulders, before she forced herself to the side with a grunt. And quicker than she had ever expected, the blade withdrew and struck again.

Dazed and just a bit flustered, Reyna rolled down before steadying herself with a crouch. The muscles on her leg coiled and she tightened her grip around the damp hilt of her dagger, sweat plastering clumps of hair to the nape of her neck.

She sprang and he ducked swiftly from her aim. She passed by, whizzing through nothing but empty air.

But it was all she needed.

Spinning herself around, she let the dagger fly. It winked across her sight and she caught Percy's widening eyes—and she only had a second to curse herself because-

_Stupid! You don't want him to die anymore!_

Fortunately, Percy's instincts were far quicker than she expected them to be, and he dropped to the ground, feet sliding against the grit and sand underneath him.

The knife sailed over his head and clattered to an awkward stop several feet behind him.

Reyna landed, her tailbone stinging with a sharp jolt of pain as her bottom met the ground.

Head snapping up, her eyes met his—black on green—and she was surprised to find that he was…that he was…

"Are you _laughing_?"

**...**

They were silent for several moments before someone meekly spoke—voice small and unsure.

"Is…is it a draw?"

"I'm not sure." A tall, lanky boy fingered his denarii thoughtfully. He scratched his head and squinted his eyes. "Also, I don't know if anyone else is seeing this, but…

…is Jackson laughing?"

**...**

Yes.

Yes he was laughing.

The corner of his mouth was quirking upward and his be-damned green eyes were alight with mirth.

He picked up the dagger—the same one that nearly decapitated him seconds ago—stared at it, then at her, and then he laughed even more.

The hearty kind. The kind that had him gasping for air and brought a rosy flush to his cheeks. The kind that made her feel strangely warm and tingly and, for some reason, extremely annoyed.

"You _are_ laughing," she said, accusingly almost. "Why are you laughing?"

Percy grinned, composing himself, before letting out a faint chuckle. "Sorry, Reyna… It's just that—" He coughed, ducking his head low, and his hair swept down to cover the smile threatening to show again. "Your face…"

"My _face?"_

"Yeah, you just kind of… You looked kind of funny when you thought that knife was gonna cut my head right off." His smile was sheepish and he rubbed the back of his neck when the intensity of her gaze grew at the words.

Reyna felt something akin to anger blossom in her chest and she clenched her fists, pushing them hard against the ground.

_And it was about to, idiot, _she hissed in her head before taking a deep breath and rising to her feet.

She really wished she were taller. Striding up to him and snatching her dagger back, she lifted her eyes to send him a glare—only to find that she couldn't move them from his lips.

Chapped and pink. He bit on the lower and cleared his throat—unnerved at their close proximity.

"Reyna?"

She blinked and slipped her dagger into its sheath, gritting her teeth behind pursed lips.

"You're insufferable."

Percy started at the words, stumbling back. The smile fell from his face and he tilted his head to the side. Strands of light faded back from Little Tiber and the sun dipped low behind a gathering haze of clustered orange clouds.

The green of his eyes darkened.

"She…used to say that a lot, you know."

Reyna arched a brow. "Who?"

"Annabeth."

"Oh." Reyna stiffened, feeling, for some reason, as if she were poking at a fresh wound that would reopen if bothered any further. "Well," she said, putting a snarky edge to her tone. "I'll take that as a compliment for now, Jackson."

His lips twitched and—oh, gods, she really needed to stop looking at his lips—he said, "It's the closest one you'll get from me anyway."

"We'll see."

**...**

The campers watched as the two fighters strode away and grumbled amongst themselves.

"Well…guess no one really won, right?"

They turned back to watch the two closely, narrowed their eyes as Percy said something—presumably a joke, a stupid one at that—and Reyna scoffed, her usually impassive expression falling to convey irritation and, perhaps, some slight exasperated amusement.

"Nah. Someone_ definitely_ won here."

**...**

"Why did you want to train?"

They marched to Little Tiber and watched as the waves restlessly tumbled over one another.

"Thought I was getting a little rusty." Reyna shrugged.

"Seeing as how my head is still intact, I wholeheartedly agree."

"Don't push it, Jackson."

"Why not train with Octavian?" Percy shifted his feet to and fro, and the tiny laps of water copied his movement studiously. "You could have killed him. Made it look like an accident."

"True," Reyna conceded, nodding thoughtfully. "Very true. I might just try that."

"So…why me then?"

"Because." The praetor spun smartly on her heels, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "I like you, Percy Jackson."

"You _like _me?"

"Yes."

"So trying to stick a dagger in my throat was—"

"—purely coincidental."

"Right." He snorted derisively. "Of course."

**...**

Denariis were soon exchanged and the campers dispersed.

Nobody had died, thankfully. Though some were a bit disgruntled at the lack of gore and 'pizzaz' that was usually present during Reyna's training sessions.

The boys scoffed away at their loss. Yes, their wallets were considerably lighter—no thanks to Reyna and Percy—but their pride was still there, bruised but alive.

And, really who could have seen that coming?

There was a dramatic change in bets after Reyna and Percy yielded. The girls had put in a considerable amount of money on the table—confident in their instinct that the Reyna would "admit her feelings". And the boys had been similarly cocky in return, putting in their own coins—assured by the well-known fact that their praetor not only lacked a love life but also the mindset to say such a ridiculously cliché thing to the son of the sea god.

Were girls just naturally insightful about these…_things?_ About inexplicable boy-girl bonding moments between two people who could not be more _not_ right for each other?

Ah, no matter.

Hearing the girls fight and split into two separate parties deemed "Team Jason" and "Team Percy" was hilarious, and they were all too eager to pull the boys in with them. All in all, the admittedly 'cute' bickering they had witnessed in Little Tiber's shores made for a good show, on _that _everyone could agree on.

It was good blackmail material too.

Maybe now Reyna would finally think through on their suggestion at installing a hot tub in the hearth of the camp.

* * *

><p><strong>Wow.<strong>

Okay so I've gotten the pointless drabble out of the way. I just felt that I've been spouting to much angst lately - and that is never a good thing. Hope you guys enjoyed a break from the serious, brooding Reyna though. I sure had fun writing her that way. :D

_Reviews, please? Pretty please? _

**-HVM**


	5. Chapter 5

_Death to Pain_

**_ A_**

The airship was smaller than what Percy was expecting, but he had seen far too many alien-themed movies in the past days—no thanks to Reyna and the secret stash of sci-fi DVDs he had stolen from her room—so he wasn't really one to talk.

The campers gathered out onto the front entrance of the camp, more than a few already brandishing weapons of their choice, eyes steely and flinty with suspicion. Wind howled, raking across the campgrounds and tugging at his praetor robe. He shifted his feet studiously, certain that he made an awkward image—wearing a dark robe that draped over him more like a bedsheet than anything with Riptide kept loosely at his side while some were already starting to nock explosive arrows and preparing to hurl javelins.

Hazel stood off a little ways, features crumpled with an emotion he couldn't quite name and Frank, as expected, was stuck to her side like glue. His fingers were knotted together against his thigh, anxiety writ on his face.

_"Greeks,"_ Octavian spat out the word, saliva dribbling on his lips before he brought the back of his hand across his mouth, distaste flickering in his eyes. Reyna pinned him with a quieting glare and crossed her arms, hiding a grimace.

The ship dipped forward, the orange-red rays of the sun sighing along the bronze hull and pattering timidly atop the dragon masthead, slipping across sharpened teeth and flared nostrils, where plumes of smoke puffed out rhythmically.

Percy couldn't quite tell if it was just for show or served an actual function. He was betting on the former.

A blaze of gold shot out from the ship, streaking across the sky, and the campers readied themselves in eerie unison. Arrows were notched and aimed towards the blur, unable to identify it as a threat, nor—perhaps a…

("_Damn," _Octavian cursed low under his breath, a growl purring under his words, and his hands skittered back to stroke the hilt of a hidden dagger. Reyna stilled, her feet sliding apart and her body crouching low, prepared to uncoil and strike at any moment. Percy watched, eyes narrowing as he made out the faint outline of…of a-)

…a person?

Reyna's eyes widened, brows spiking to her hairline, and she stumbled forward. Her voice was commanding and clear, ringing across to every camper.

"_Hold your fire!"_

Lightning brewed above, and in the blink of an eye the blur of gold unfurled—a lean body sprawled for landing—and a blinding stroke of electric blue thundered down in jagged lines, reaching for the outstretched arm-

_("He's _insane,"_ Percy hissed, and Little Tiber's water splashed and roared uneasily. Reyna shook her head, color draining from he face. "No. He's—")_

-then twining across unmarked skin before rearing back, bringing a faint light across a forearm bearing four bar lines and _SPQR _and an _eagle…_

("Jason," she breathed, eyes glazed over. "Jason, Jason, _Jason."_)

There was the unmistakable rumble of rolling thunder, a bright starburst of white-hot light flashing in relentless streams, and Percy felt it—

("Hold your fire!" Reyna shrieks, face flushed and eyes damp. "It's _Jason_, hold your fire!")

-felt the lightning ghosting over his flesh, breaking through skin, reaching for bone…and chaos unleashed all around him, campers' screams pouring in his ears, shouts of _"what's happening" _and _"shoot him down" _and _"Percy!" _and-

"Hold your fire."

His heart clenches and he's not quite sure why because _of course _she couldn't kill _him_, could she? What was he expecting? This shouldn't be new, this should not be unexpected, this shouldn't be anything he is unprepared for.

But he wakes up in the middle of the night in cold sweat anyway and checks to see if he's still alive.

(if they haven't left him for dead yet)

**'''**

"You look terrible."

He grimaced, ignoring her pointed look, and huffed a little.

"You don't look so hot either, beauty queen."

Reyna's face twisted, mouth curdling on the side. She stabbed her dagger into the soil with more force than what one would consider necessary, hair falling down in dark, scraggly strands.

"You stole my DVDs."

"So you _admit_ they're yours, hm?" Percy smirked, plopping down none-too gracefully beside her.

The moon still hung high and Little Tiber was untouched, not a single ripple marking its surface. Reyna stared hard at the water, the muscles in her jaw working. From the way she kept her eyes firmly glued to her hands, which were splayed on the ground, grit kissing the tips of her fingers, he could tell she didn't want to look at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Couldn't sleep," Percy said, shrugging. "I needed some fresh air."

"Go get air from somewhere else then," said Reyna, her voice not quite matching her words. "You're taking up all of mine."

He wasn't quite sure whether it was the sleep deprivation talking or just an inborn desire to break through her "i-am-all-mighty-praetor-hear-me-roar" façade, but something within him wanted to goad her on.

"Now, now," he muttered, making his tone sound put off. "That's no way to talk to someone you almost impaled just a day ago, is it?"

Reyna stilled. Her eyes darkened.

"I'm not in the mood for talking, Jackson."

Percy inwardly sighed. He was getting more and more irked with her insistence on keeping him at a first-name basis.

"That's inconvenient, because I am."

Reyna made a low sound in the back of her throat and she pulled her knees forward against her chest. Her purple shirt was a size too large, making her seem far more delicate than he knew her to be.

Oddly discomfited at the image, he turned his gaze away, upwards to the sky.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

Her entire body tensed for a moment and she pressed down on her hands, hunching forward. "Bad dreams."

"Yeah? Me too. Bet yours aren't as bad as mine."

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Percy shrugged, then let it go as an afterthought. It wasn't as if he wanted to share his either.

A fragile sort of silence hung between them, and Percy had to keep himself from breathing too loudly, afraid that if he even so much as shifted and the dirt brushed against his shirt, it would shatter. He found that there was nothing to stare at. There were no stars above, no hazy, dream-like clouds.

Just a lonely moon.

To be honest, he was rather relieved. If the setting had been just that, it would have been perfect for a sappy romance novel, and any campers sneaking around past curfew (he knew they existed, they were just e_xtremely good_ at not getting caught) would have certainly gotten the wrong idea.

He heard that some sleazy kid was already starting a betting pool for whether or not the two praetors would eventually, ahem, _pursue a semi-romantic yet semi-platonic—because, c'mon, this is _Reyna _we're talking about—relationship_. And apparently a worrisome enough percentage of campers were getting involved.

Percy didn't know if it was immoral to consider getting in cahoots with the kid and getting some of the benefits. He was pretty broke.

Reyna turned to him, her eyes hard and unreadable, and he was beginning to suspect she could read his mind.

_Think of monster trucks, think of big swords, think of manly MANLY things…_

"I used to dream about you getting run over by a truck," said Reyna, voice inflectionless as if she were talking about the whether.

Percy blinked.

"Um…"

"A monstrously huge truck. A really, really big one," she continued.

Percy's jaw fell open. His mind drew a blank on how to respond.

"Then I grew out of it. And I started dreaming about buildings falling on you—I figured that it'd hurt more, you know? But now-" she stopped abruptly, biting down on her lip. "Now I can't even hate you properly."

Percy swallowed, an alarm ringing off in the back of his head as he realized he was entering a relatively unsteady territory. He had to tread carefully.

"If it's any consolation, your sister still can."

Reyna made a small, strangled noise that might have been laughter or actual choking.

"No. Not even her, I think." Reyna grimaced, as if remembering something particularly unpleasant. "It's kind of frustrating. Hating someone all your life and then realizing that you had no right to in the first place."

"_Au contraire," _Percy said, not entirely sure if he was using the phrase correctly. "I destroyed your home. That's a valid enough reason to want to run trucks over me."

"One would think," Reyna said, nodding softly. "But you saved Camp Jupiter. You saved the home I have now."

Percy smiled. "I'm hardly the only one to thank for that."

"Who said I was thanking you? This just means we're even now, Jackson."

"You are aware that I have a first name, right?"

"Hn." Reyna nodded very seriously, only the slight upward twitch of her lips betraying the fact that she found him maybe-slightly-just a tiny bit funny when he wasn't too busy being idiotic. She looked up, greeting the same lonely moon with dark eyes and said something very softly under her breath the Percy couldn't hear.

"Pardon?" he asked, and she sighed, long suffering.

"Do you remember when we talked in the principia? Over wine?"

"I can't tell the difference between champagne and beer to be honest, but yes."

"And you asked me what I would do when they arrived?"

He hesitated, not long enough for her to notice—hopefully—then nodded.

"I said I'd meet with Jason," she sighed, her tone monotonous, save for the slight stumbling over his name.

"Hm."

"But what if I don't meet with Jason?" Reyna said. "What if I meet someone with Jason's face and Jason's voice and Jason's eyes who _isn't _Jason? What if – what if… what if he doesn't remember me? Where do I start off from there?"

Her fingers curled into fists, creating a depression on the ground.

Percy's throat tightened.

He thought of Annabeth, thought of princess curls and calculating eyes and the pitter-patter of his heart whenever he remembered small, small things like how she called him "insufferable" and "seaweed brain" and the rush of water against locked lips. He thought of Annabeth walking down the ship and what he would say, what he wouldn't say, and found that nothing came to him.

What do you say to someone you barely remember?

"I don't know," he sighed, and Reyna's shoulder slumped. "But I know you're hardly one to go down without a fight. If you were, you wouldn't be here, in Camp Jupiter—much less a praetor. And when you lost your home-" he stopped, ice breathing against the inside of his chest, and he continued again, breathing out, "you figured the next best thing to revenge would have to be finding a new home. And you did. Against all odds, because homes don't just pop out for children who need them—even more so for people like us. And- and-" he paused, the clumsy tumble of words falling from his mouth coming to an abrupt stop. He had more to say, but doubted he's be able to say it in a way that wouldn't be so cringe-worthy awkward, in a way that would be flowery and inspirational and full of big words that he couldn't spell because, he figured in his head, Reyna deserved that. And he owed her the most.

"I had more to say," he muttered, dropping his gaze back down. "But you probably get what I'm trying to tell you, right?"

Reyna looked at him, eyes drilling into his, and he had the strangest feeling that maybe he was finally seeing him. Maybe she saw the parts of himself that even he couldn't remember having. Maybe she saw him the way he was before his mind became a blank canvas for new memories to be painted on.

Like an 'Annabeth'—but one he could remember better.

She smiled, shook her head.

"Moron."

_Seaweed Brain._

She stood, dusting off her purple shirt, not looking quite as small and fragile as she had moments ago. Percy blinked up at her and she blinked down at him.

"But thank you, anyway…Percy."

She turned on her heel, striding away with a slow, purposeful gait worthy of a victorious war general and before he could turn back to Little Tiber and shoot the sky a stupid, happy smile, she called back-

"I still want my DVD's back, Jackson."

He stiffened, laughter bubbling in his chest, eyes drawn upwards as if by mere instinct.

And somehow – somehow, the moon wasn't so lonely anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>*drowns in mush and cheesiness*<strong>

How did you guys like this one? It's been a while (understatement) and I feel rusty. :P

Did someone get excited thinking that _oh my gods _the fated Annabeth-Percy and Jason-Reyna reunion finally found its way into my story? _Romantic tension and love triangles galore!_

Nope? Just getting ahead of myself? Oh.

My friend, who has HOGGED MY BOOK FOR NEARLY A WHOLE YEAR (she better not have drawn on it), finally gave it back. Whew. So I don't remember a whole lot about the story and how Camp Jupiter is. (notice lack of detail in story). I forgive her though because I will probably never see her again and you'd know why if you looked at my profile page where I write many, many useless things. No, I'm not drastically sick, if that's what you're thinking (very morbidly, I might add).

**Also. **

1. I just found out we could have images for our story. But I can't draw. Who can?

2. ARRGH. DocManager makes my 'REYNA' come out as 'A'. Very annoying.

_~A review a day keeps the doctor away.~_

**-HVM :)**


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